THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE   COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH   CAROLINIANA 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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DISCIPLINE  OF  THE  HEART. 


TO  BE  CONNKCTED  Wnil 


THE  CULTURE  OF  THE  MIND 


DISCOURSE  ON  EDUCATION, 


DELIVERED  TO  THE 


STUDENTS  OF  THE  COLLEGE, 

At  Chapel  Hill,  North  Carolina,  August  22, 1830,  and  published  by  their  request. 


BY  REV.   WILLIAM  HOOPEK, 

PROFESSOR  OF  ANCIENT  LANOITAOES  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  N.  C. 


NEW  YORK : 

SLEIGHT  AND  ROBINSON,  PRINTERS, 
No.  26,  William  Street, 

1830. 


DISCOURSE  ON  EDUCATION 


I  Cor.  xiii.  3.— Though  I  understand  all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge,  and      , 
have  not  charity,  I  am  nothing. 

I 

It  is  of  the  highest  importance  to  those  who  are  ob- 
taining an  education,  that  they  should  previously  have 
formed  a  correct  opinion  respecting  what  a  good  educa- 
tion is,  or  in  other  words,  what  is  the  main  end  of  edu- 
cation. Now,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  assert,  with- 
out danger  of  contradiction,  that  the  chief  business  of 
education  is,  to  develope,  to  cultivate,  and  to  train 
towards  perfection,  all  the  useful  and  agreeable  powers 
of  man.  It  may  be  compendiously  expressed  in  what 
one  of  the  ancients  tells  us  ought  to  constitute  our 
prayer  to  heaven,  "  that  we  may  possess  a  sound  mind 
in  a  sound  body."* 

Our  constitution  may  be  said  to  consist  of  three  parts, 
the  animal,  the  intellectual,  and  the  moral,  to  each  of 

*  Orandum  est  ut  sit  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano. — Jrv.  Sat.  10. 


Avhich  a  j udicious  education  will  pay  a  careful  regard .  It, 
will  not,  by  an  excessive  attention  to  our  animal  part,  by 
bending  all  its  efforts  to  impart  strength  and  activity  to 
the  bod}^,  train  up  man,  like  the  wrestlers  and  racers  of 
antiquity,  as  if  the  gymnastic  arena  were  the  properest 
theatre  for  his  exertions,  and  the  palm  there  won,  the 
most  glorious  premium  of  humanity.  Nor  will  it,  by 
a  too  ardent  and  intense  occupation  of  the  mental 
powers,  refuse  to  our  bodily  system  its  appropriate  ex- 
ercise ;^hus  impairing  health,  fixing  upon  us  all  the 
miseries  of  a  broken  constitution,  and  rendering  impos- 
sible those  very  intellectual  achievements,  for  which  we 
have  made  such  costly  sacrifices. 

But  even  if  education  maintained  a  just  and  impar- 
tial balance  between  the  claims  of  body  and  mind — if 
it  carried  on,  hand  in  hand,  the  improvement  of  our 
corporeal  and  intellectual  faculties,  still  it  might  be  es- 
sentially defective.  It  might  leave  entirely  out  of  con- 
sideration a  third  and  most  important  part  of  our  na- 
ture, to  wit,  our  moral  character ;  abandoning  it  to  the 
mercy  of  circumstances,  and  furnishing  it  not  with  any 
preparation  for  the  duties  and  the  exigencies  of  life. 
Doubtless,  a  good  education  would  respect  the  claims 
of  each  of  these  parts  of  the  human  system,  and 
carry  them  on  in  harmonious  combination. 

An  exclusive,  nay  even  a  principal  attention  to  the 
enjoyments  of  our  animal  nature,  wears  so  ignoble  and 
base  an  aspect,  that  few  would  have  the  hardihood  to 
defend  it.  and  it  has  stamped  with  eternal  infamy  the 


sciiooi  of  Epicurus.  Yet,  although  no  ingenuoUi? 
\  outh  would  theorize  m  defence  of  sensuality,  and  pros- 
titute his  reason  by  endeavoining  to  found  Epicurean 
ism  upon  argument,  unhappily  too  many  practise  this 
system  to  its  full  extent,  and  actually  make  animal 
pleasure  their  god,  ashamed  as  they  may  be  to  confess 
it.  They  acknowledge  that  reason  ought  to  be  the  ar- 
biter of  their  actions,  but  in  practice,  sense  leads  them 
captive,  while  reason,  conscience,  friends  and  country, 
cry  out  in  vain  against  so  vile  a  servitude.  Hotv  many 
ethereal  minds,  which  might  have  reflected  lustre  on 
their  country,  have  been  besotted ;  how  many  amiable 
dispositions,  which  might  have  circulated  happiness 
through  society,  have  been  brutalized  by  a  base  sub- 
jection to  voluptuousness  !  Many  a  fine  youth,  whose 
head  was  furnished  with  fail"  theories  of  morals,  and 
who  could  speculate  eloquently  on  the  charms  of  virtue, 
has  proved  an  unequal  match  for  imperious  appetite, 
and  has  been  dragged  on  to  ruin,  an  unwilling,  an  in- 
dignant, and  self-abhorring  victim,  at  the  chariot 
wheels  of  this  tyrant  of  the  soul.  Ah,  what  then  be- 
comes of  all  his  inward  furniture — his  rich  apparatus  of 
capacities  for  godlike  deeds,  and  godlike  enjoyments, 
when,  with  them  all,  he  is  found  unable  to  contend 
against  the  basest  propensities,  but  is  brought  down  by 
a  vicious  indulgence  of  them  to  a  level  with  the  lowest 
of  the  rabble !  What  avail  to  him,  then,  the  years  it 
was  his  privilege  to  spend  in  collegiate  retirement — sur- 
rounded by  libraries,  embodying  the  collected  wisdom  of 


the  world — carefully  instructed  by  professors  in  the  va 
rious  branches  of  knowledge,  and  sent  forth  upon  the 
stage  of  action,  with  mental  powers  qualifying  him  to 
honour  himself,  to  serve  his  country,  and  to  bless  so- 
ciety !  After  all  this  laboured  intellectual  preparation, 
if  his  moral  nature  be  not  trained,  and  regulated,  and 
controlled,  by  inflexible  principles  of  rectitude,  he  may 
become  the  slave  of  brutal  appetites  ;  and  be  a  far  less 
useful  member  of  society  than  the  humble  ploughman, 
whose  mind  penury  has  kept  ignorant  of  all  the  lights 
of  philosophy.  There  is  a  depressing  apprehension, 
which  sometimes  comes  upon  those,  who  have  the 
charge  of  education — lest  all  their  labours  should  be 
thrown  away ;  a  melancholy  uncertainty,  whether  the 
young  mind,  for  which  it  is  the  labour  of  their  whole 
lives  to  gain  and  communicate  knowledge,  may  not. 
after  all,  dissipate  its  powers  in  idleness,  or  drown  them 
in  pleasure.  It  is  like  that  feeling,  which  sickens  the 
heart,  and  unnerves  the  arm  of  the  husbandman,  on 
some  exposed  frontier.  As  he  toils  along  after  his  plough, 
his  spirits  flag,  his  feet  drag  heavily,  with  the  mournful 
consideration,  that  ere  long,  perhaps,  some  ruthless  in- 
vader will  desolate  his  smihng  fields,  and  bloody  soldiers 
riot  on  that  corn  and  wine  intended  for  his  own  family. 
It  is  like  the  miserable  disappointment  of  the  Mantuan 
swain,  when  he  heard  the  edict  of  the  Emperor,  that 
he  must  yield  up  his  little  farm  to  the  disbanded 
legionaries  of  Augustus :  "  shall  the  barbarian  possess 
this  dear  home  of  mine?"  he  exclaims,  in  the  bitter- 


iiess  of  his  soul,  as  he  goes  to  prepare  his  exiled  family 
for  their  removal !     "  Shall  trifling  pleasures"  exclaims 
the  teacher  in  his  melancholy  anticipations,  "  shall  tri- 
lling pleasures  hereafter  engross,  shall  vicious  excesses 
debauch,  that  mind,  which  I  am  now  so  solicitous  to 
enrich  with  the  spoils  of  knowledge,  and  to  charm  with 
the  embellishments  of  hterature  ?"     The  thought  that 
peradventure  this  may  be  the  sad  issue,  must  dishearten 
him  in  his  work,  and  cool  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
a  mind,  itself  enamoured  of  knowledge,  loves  to  pom 
it  into  other  minds  greedy  to  imbibe  it.     Oh  !  could  he 
be  secure  of   a  favourable   result— could  he  have  a 
guaranty  for  the  conscientious  improvement  and  apph- 
cation  of  the  knowledge  he  imparts — could  he  know 
that  not  a  hint  dropped  would  be  lost,  but  might  serve 
as  the  first  hght  in  a  line  of  telegraph,  to  send  intel- 
hgence  over  a  continent — what  new  ardour  would  it 
lend  to  his  hours  of  study,  and  how  much  more  rapidly 
and  cheerfully  would  his  mind  move  along  the  toilsome 
steep  of  learning  !     To  give  some  security  that  all  the 
discipline  of  pupilage  shall  not  be  completely  firustrated 
by  subsequent  degeneracy — that  the  reasonable  hopes 
of  parents  and  tutors  may  not  be  cruelly  wrecked  upon 
the  rocks  of  pleasure,  which  beset  most  thickly  the 
early  part  of  hfe's  voyage,  it  should  be  deeply  impressed 
on  those  who  direct,  and  those  who  receive  education, 
that  our  moral  part  is  by  far  the  most  important — the 
most  noble  part  of  our  nature.     Without  a  due  culture 
of  that,  intellect  may  be  possessed  in  vain.     It  may  be 


s 

like  a  precious  gem,  buried  in  a  dung-hill ;  or.  it  ii 
shine,  it  may  be  only  as  the  hghtning's  flash,  to  rive 
and  to  consume.  High  talents,  if  not  regulated  by 
principle,  and  consecrated  to  virtuous  ends,  M^ill  only 
involve  the  possessor  in  the  uncommon  guilt,  the  ter- 
rific responsibility,  of  having  received  and  having  pros 
tituted  heaven's  clioicest  gifts.  Surely,  instead  of  ap- 
plause, the  scorn  and  the  imprecations  of  society  ought 
to  pursue  such  a  man,  for  basely  defiauding  them  of 
those  benefits,  which  his  talents  were  lent  him  from 
above  to  impart  to  others.  He  is  like  those  noxious 
insects,  which  generate  poison  from  those  very  juices, 
whence  the  bee  extracts  the  purest  honey. 

Nor  will  a  cultivated  intellect  confer  happiness  on 
its  possessor,  any  more  than  it  will  adorn  or  bless  so- 
ciety, unless  it  be  accompanied  by  virtuous  affections. 
As  you  cultivate  and  refine  the  mind,  you  sharpen  the 
sensibility,  you  disclose  higher  possibihties  of  excel- 
lence, you  erect  a  loftier  standard  of  happiness,  you 
awaken  from  their  dormant  state  all  the  aspiiing  appe- 
tites of  the  soul.  Of  course,  you  are  preparing  keener 
pangs  for  disappointed  ambition;  quicker  irritability 
against  opposition  and  contradiction ;  a  liveher  suscepti- 
bility of  pain  from  the  crosses  and  vexations  of  life ;  a 
clearer  discernment  of  all  the  imperfections  of  man 
kind,  and  consequently  a  readier  and  stronger  disgust 
at  them — a  disgust  tending  to  tlnrow  the  mind  into  a 
^tate,  either  of  self-corroding  scorn,  or  sullen  misan- 
thropy.    In  proportion,  therefore,  as  the  intellect  is  ex 


iilted,  and  the  lasie  refined,  there  is  need  thai  uitr  mural 
nature  should  be  confirmed  in  rectitude,  and  all  our  af- 
fections enlisted  on  the  side  of  virtue  ;  just  as  a  tower 
requires  a  more  ample  foundation,  the  higher  it  mounts 
into  the  air. 

It  is  the  more  necessary  to  insist  upon  such  consi- 
derations to  an  audience  like  this,  because,  at  a  seat  of 
learning,  genius  is  apt  to  be  held  in  higher  estimation 
than  any  other  quality.  It  is  idolized — it  is  adored  :  to 
it  every  knee  bows — to  it  every  tongue  offers  anthems 
of  praise.  To  possess  it  is  considered  the  highest  glory 
of  man,  and  to  eulogise  it  furnishes  a  favourite  theme 
for  the  exhibition  of  eloquence.  It  is  considered  as  an 
expiation  for  almost  any  vice,  and  as  even  shedding 
lustre  upon  a  career  of  profligacy.  But  let  the  adorers 
of  genius  lemember,  that,  in  the  eye  of  heaven,  moral 
excellence  stands  on  far  more  exalted  ground  than 
intellectual — that  even  the  infernal  spirits,  whose  bo 
soms,  we  are  taught  to  believe,  overflow  with  every 
mahgnant  and  detestable  passion,  far  transcend  in 
mental  powers  the  proudest  geniuses  of  mortal  birth — 
and  that  the  man  of  plain  understanding,  who  governs 
his  passions,  who  cannot  be  lured  by  interest,  or  de- 
terred by  danger,  fi-om  the  path  of  rectitude,  is  a  no- 
bler, a  sublimer,  a  dearer  spectacle  to  God  and  angels, 
than  the  most  brilliant  intellect,  leagued  with  a  wicked 
disposition.  Ah,  what  will  avail  all  your  hterary  and 
scientific  ,accomphshments,  if  you  carry  within  your 
own  breasts  the  tormentors  of  your  peace  !     You  ma> 


10 

1)6  flattered  and  caressed  by  your  acquaintances,  and 
by  the  world  at  large ;  but  after  all,  you  are  only  the 
image  of  ^Etna,  whose  surface  smiles  with  vines  and 
oUves,  while  all  its  interior  rages  with  fierce  and  inex- 
tinguishable flames. 

A  cultivated  mind,  as  has  been  said,  acquires  a  more 
delicate  sensibility  than  before,  and  therefore  is  more 
easily  and  deeply  wounded  by  adverse  fortune,  by  the 
various  crosses  and  repulses,  which  all  of  us  are  des- 
tined to  meet,  in  our  intercourse  with  a  selfish  world, 
and  the  thousand  little,  nameless  vexations  of  daily 
life.  It  shrinks,  like  the  sensitive  plant,  from  the 
slightest  touch.  Impediments,  which  would  not  at  aU 
disquiet  a  coarser  or  more  phlegmatic  mind,  fill  it  with 
fretfulness  or  despondency.  An  unkind  word  or 
action,  scarcely  noticed  by  another,  cuts  it  to  the  quick. 
Pride  of  character,  and  a  morbid  dread  of  the  world's 
sneer,  make  it  apt  to  construe  into  an  affront  any  hasty 
word  that  may  be  dropped  in  conversation  or  business^ 
an  aflfront  to  be  revenged  by  arms,  and  to  be  expiated 
only  by  blood.  So  much  more  vuhierable  does  culti- 
vation render  the  mind  of  man. 

But  even  should  a  man  of  education  escape  the 
usual  oppositions  and  vexations,  which  mar  the  happi- 
ness of  the  majority — should  life's  surface  be  as  smooth 
as  that  of  the  ocean  in  halcyon  days,  yet  prosperity 
itself  becomes  a  tedious  uniformity — the  heart  sickens 
in  the  midst  of  abundance,  and  a  dull  insipidity 
spreads  its  leaden  influence  over  the  listless  hours. 


11 

Behold  yonder  young  man  !  He  has  obtained  hU  edu- 
cation— he  is  in  easy  circumstances — ^his  constitution  is 
vigorous — his  friends  are  numerous  and  kind.  Yet 
what  means  that  languid  air,  that  cloud  upon  his 
brow,  that  expression  of  discontent  and  unrest  in  his 
whole  manner  ?  Why,  he  has  tasted  all  that  life  has 
to  bestow,  and  he  is  sated  with  it.  It  has  left  the 
mind  unfilled — it  has  left  the  heart  disappointed. 
He  has  at  his  command  the  pleasures  which  mo- 
ney can  purchase ;  but  having  indulged  again  and 
again  in  those  pleasures,  the  charm  of  novelty  is 
gone^ — appetite  is  cloyed — and  nature,  languishing 
and  unstrung,  tells  him  that  this  soft,  self-indulgeni 
course  of  life,  was  not  intended  for  us,  and  that  volup- 
tuousness is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  as  happi- 
ness. Perhaps  guilty  excesses  have  relaxed  his  frame. 
and  agitated  his  nerves,  and  planted  envenomed  arrows 
in  his  conscience.  This — this  accounts  for  that 
hstless,  wearied  air — that  brow  of  sadness — that  re- 
luctant sigh,  which  every  now  and  then  escapes  from 
his  breast.  He  is,  we  may  suppose,  a  favourite  child — 
he  is  a  pampered  son.  He  has  been  denied  nothing. 
Habitual  gratification  has  rendered  his  appetites  impe- 
rious— his  will  brooks  no  opposition  or  refusal.  Having 
grown  up  in  this  state,  whenever  his  passions  are  soh- 
cited,  he  yields  to  their  sway — he  stops  not  at  the  hmits 
of  innocence — he  listens  not  to  the  whispers  of  con- 
science— he  thinks  not  of  consequences ;  the  tears  of 
parents — the  sting  of  disgrace — the  disgust  of  satiety. 


% 


unci    remorse,    with   her    bcouige   of   scorpions,    ever 
close  to  the  heels  of  guilt — all,  all  are  disregarded  in 
the  tempest  of  desire.     But  the  tempest  is  over  in  an 
liour,  and  you  are  then  at  liberty  calmly  to  survey  the 
wrecks  of  its  desolation.     To  day,  "  care  sits  on  that 
faded  cheek,"  which  yesterday  was  flushed  with  plea- 
sure— heavy  and  beamless  to  day  is  that  eye,  which 
yesterday  sparkled  with  joy — and  that  heart,  which  then 
glowed  with  the  delirious  fever  of  present  enjoyment, 
is  now  the  seat  of  self-loathing,  shame,  and  anxiety. 
Say,  ingenuous  young  man,  you  that  have  a  father,  or 
a  mother,  or  a  circle  of  frieiids,  who  look  to  you  with 
tenderness  and  respect,  what  would  you  take  to  forfeit 
that  esteem,  and  by  a  vile  act,  to  become  degraded  in 
their  eyes  ?     Would  it  not  cost  you  a  pang  like  the 
stab  of  a  dagger  ?     Yet  to  the  danger  of  such  misery 
are  you  exposed,  as  long  as  the  love  of  pleasure  holds 
its  empire  over  you.     How  must  a  son,  who  ha.=:  spent 
a  night  in  drmking,  gaming,  or  debauchery,  dread  lest 
his  uregTdarities  should  reach  the  knowledge  of  his 
parents.     His  feeUngs  have  been  refined  by  education 
—a  sense   of   character    has   been  nourished  witliiu 
him — he  knows  how  to  appreciate  the  approving  smile 
that  has  rewarded  his  virtuous  conduct,  and  he  knows 
how  to  feel  the  agony  of  its  loss.     He  hves  in  constant 
apprehension,  lest  his  wickedness  should  come  to  light 
— the  smiles  and  caresses  of  his  friends  oppress  him 
with  conscious  demerit — he  knows  that  he  is  indebted 
for  these  testimonies  of  affection,  entirely  to  the  secrecy 


13   ■• 

ut  Ins  crnaes — he  knows  that  these  marks  ol  honour 
spring  from  a  full  behef  that  he  is  incapable  of  such 
vices  as  those  which  have  polluted  him — he  can  hardly 
help  giving  vent  to  his  bursting  emotions,  and  making 
to  his  deceived  parents  the  agonizing  confession  :  that 
he  has  '•  sinned  against  heaven  and  them,  and  is  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  their  son." 

Could  we  suppose  such  a  young  man,  as  he  with- 
draws himself  to  his  chamber  from  caresses,  rendered 
insufferable  by  conscious  gmlt,  to  pour  forth  his  feel- 
ings in  words,  we  might  expect  from  him  some  such 
sohloquy  as  this :  "  My  kind  father  has  spared  no 
expense  m  order  to  furnish  me  with  the  blessings  of  a 
good  education.  I  have  had  my  mind  polished  by 
hterature,  and  enlarged  by  science  and  philosophy. 
But  what  avails  all  this,  while  I  am  the  slave  of  vile 
passions,  doing  the  things  that  I  abhor,  and  tormented 
wath  mortification  and  remorse,  in  the  midst  of  the  flat- 
tering compliments  of  my  friends  !  I  would  rather  be 
the  unlettered  rustic,  the  honest  ploughman,  that  can 
rise  in  the  morning  with  a  conscience  void  of  oflfence. 
than  such  a  wretch  as  I  am,  with  all  the  honours  thai 
collegiate  acquirements  can  confer. 

'  One  self-approving  hour  whole  years  outweighs 
Of  stupid  starers,  and  of  loud  huzzas. ' 

Away  with  my  Uterary  attainments,  if  gotten  at  the 
price  of  virtue,  and  if  imable  to  sustain  me  against  the 
assault  of  temptation  !  Give  me  back  my  boyish  sim 
phcity  and  ignorance,  with  which  I  left  my  father's 


14 

loof.  provided  you  can  give  me,  along  with  them,  my 
innocence,  my  respect  for  a  father's  authority,  ray  filial 
tenderness  for  a  mother's  happiness,  my  cheerfulness  of 
heart,  when,  a  stranger  to  guilty  pleasure,  I  exchanged 
smiles  of  affection  and  joy  with  my  brothers  and  sis- 
ters."  These  will  be  the  bitter  reflections  of  a  youth, 
not  lost  to  sensibility,  when  he  is  enjoying  the  sunshine 
of  favour,  of  which  he  knows  himself  to  be  unworthy, 
and  which  he  sees  would  be  immediately  withdrawn,  if 
the  truth  were  knowTi.  But  if  the  tmth  should  come 
to  light,  then,  oh,  what  must  it  be  to  endure  the  wounds 
of  mortified  pride,  to  encounter  the  stern  frown  of  an 
angry  father,  the  tearful  look  of  a  fond  mother,  all, 
whose  long-cherished  hopes  are  now  blasted  by  one 
cruel  stroke  !  Home  cannot  be  lovely  to  a  youth  thus 
fallen.  He  must  fly  far  from  persons,  whose  every  look 
and  word  convey  a  rebuke  to  his  soul. 

Nor  is  it  only  the  Ucentious  passions,  which  often 
rule  and  deform  a  lettered  mind.  To  the  shame  of 
humanity  it  must  be  confessed,  that  envy,  malignity, 
avarice,  and  deceit,  are  oftentimes  seen  in  company  with 
the  brightest  talents.  It  is  humiliating  to  our  natuie  to 
read  the  biography  of  the  wits  and  geniuses  who  have 
filled  the  world  with  their  renown.  How  much  mean 
envy  against  contemporary  merit,  how  much  virulent 
hatred,  and  how  many  vials  of  wrath  emptied  upon  the 
heads  of  opponents  !  How  many  dishonourable  arts 
to  humble  a  rival !     How  niuch  venal  flattery  to  the 


u 

wealthy  and  the  noble  !*  If  any  one  wants  proof  that 
the  most  envenomed  malignity  may  co-exist  in  the 
same  breast  with  the  rarest  power  of  intellect,  let  him 
make  himself  acquainted  with  the  most  distinguished 
controversial  writers,  with  the  satirists,  and  critics,  and 
reviewers,  of  the  past  and  present  times.  He  will  then 
find,  that  exquisite  mental  culture  may  still  leave  the 
mind  a  prey  to  the  most  vindictive  passions — that  the 
heart  may  overflow  with  gall,  although  it  has  been  for 
years  feeding  on  all  the  elegancies  of  taste— that  in 
short,  the  highest  aim  and  proudest  triumph  of  these 
literary  combatants  is,  to  see  who  can  say  the  bitterest 
things,  who  can  distil  from  his  pen  the  most  subUmated 
poison,  who  can  inflict  upon  his  antagonist  the  keenest 
pain,  and  make  the  world  laugh  loudest  at  the  writhings 
of  the  vanquished.  What  a  melancholy  picture  is 
this,  of  human  nature !  How  plain  a  proof  of  the 
inadequacy  of  mental  cultivation,  to  cure  our  deep- 
seated  corruptions — how  undeniable  an  evidence  that 
religion's  purifying  touch  can  alone  rectify  the  heart  of 
man  i  For  if  high  talents,  polished  and  improved  to 
the  utmost,  could  have  secured  moral  excellence,  then 


*  As  to  the  whole  tribe  of  Poets,  a  chief  among  them  has  characterized  his 
fraternity  as  the  "  genus  irritabile  vatuni,"  and  one  has  but  to  read  Johnson's 
"  Lives  of  the  Poets,"  in  order  to  tind  disgusting  evidences  of  the  justice  of 
the  above  charges.  Cowper  somewhere  acknowledges  liis  mortification,  after 
reading  Dr.  Johnson's  work,  at  the  poor  figure  made  by  the  sons  of  the  muses, 
morally  considered  ;  and  does  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  them,  collectively,  "  a 
worthless  set  of  men."  It  is  painful  to  observe  how  few  honourable  exceptions 
there  are  to  this  reproach,  and  how  much  expurgation  the  volumes  of  the 
Poets  require,  before  they  can  be  safely  trusted  to  the  young,  or  read  in  the 
family  circle,  without  a  blush. 


16 

these  eminent  geniuses  would  have  attamed  ii.  Bui 
so  far  from  it,  they  exhibit  the  same  mahcious  passions 
towards  their  rivals  and  adversaries,  which  instigate 
less  intellectual  men  to  take  up  deadly  arms  against 
each  other.  And  doubtless  it  is  well  for  the  world  and 
for  themselves,  that  they  wield  the  pen  rather  than  the 
sword,  or  else  they  would  shed  the  blood  of  their  fel- 
low-men as  freely  as  they  do  now  the  contents  of  their 
ink-holders.  For  surely  it  w  ould  not  require  a  particle 
more  of  hatred  to  drive  men  to  desperate  battle,  than 
what  often  shows  itself  in  their  literary  controversies. 
If  they  do  not  discharge  at  each  other  the  gross  abuse 
and  scmrilous  invectives  of  more  vulgar  combatants, 
their  words  do  not  wound  the  less  deeply  for  being  more 
polite.  We  may  apply  to  them  the  language  of  an 
inspired  writer  :  "  Their  words  are  smoother  than  but- 
ter, yet  are  they  drawn  swords."  Now,  can  you  envy 
the  possession  of  genius,  which  is  employed  in  the 
infliction  of  pain  ?  Can  you  covet  wit,  which  finds 
its  favourite  exercise  in  violating  the  sweet  charities  of 
the  heart,  due  from  man  to  man  ?  "  Though  I  under- 
stand all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge,  and  have  not 
charity,  I  am  nothing."  Ought  we  not  rather  to  depre- 
cate the  possession  of  talents,  if  they  should  tempt  us 
to  display  them  in  the  annoyance  of  one  another,  and 
only  qualify  us  for  being  more  ingenious  and  refined 
tormentors  of  the  sensitive  mind?  It  appears  to  me 
that  a  malicious  wit  ought  to  be  regarded  in  no  other 
hght  than  as  a  gigantic  outlaw,  whose  superiour  strength 


lempts  and  enables  liiin  to  set  right  and  humanity  at 
defiance. 

But  the  mischievous  influence  of  malevolent  passions; 
in  educated  men,  is  perceptible  in  many  beside  those 
who  attract  the  notice  of  the  public  by  their  disputa- 
tions. These  must  be  comparatively  few ;  whereas, 
every  man  has  his  o\vn  little  circle  of  relatives  and  ac- 
quaintances, whom  it  is  in  his  power  to  charm  or  to 
vex,  according  as  he  introduces  among  them  a  kind  or 
a  sour  disposition.  How  odious  a  spectacle  is  it  to  see 
a  son  go  liack  from  college  to  his  parental  roof,  and 
vent  a  spiteful  or  sarcastic  temper  upon  the  mernljers  of 
the  family,  because  they  are  more  ignorant  than  him- 
self— more  ignorant  of  books,  but  perhaps  far  more  ra- 
tional and  intelligent  in  the  common  intercourse  of 
life  !  Such  a  youth  shows  that  whatever  else  he  has 
learned,  he  has  not  learned  the  magnanimity  of  being 
grateful  for  that  generous  kindness,  to  wliich  he  is 
indebted  for  his  superiority.  Should  such  a  man 
marry,  how  much  anguish  would  he  have  it  in  his 
power  to  inflict  upon  the  tender  and  delicate  mind  of 
his  companion !  Her  very  aflTection  puts  her  the  more 
completely  at  his  mercy.  A  word,  a  look  from  him,  can 
send  a  pang  to  her  heart.  That  very  tenderness  of 
sensibility,  which  quahfies  her  to  be  the  charm  of  his 
life,  exposes  her  to  more  poignant  suffering  from  his 
unkindness.  And  should  he  have  the  meanness  and 
the  cruelty  to  trample  upon  helplessness,  to  requite  love 
with  coldness  or  severity,  and  to  taunt  a  delicate  mind. 

3  •    . 


-^ 


18 

only  lJecall!^e  it  is  more  susceptible  of  sufieiing',  all  this 
she  must  endure  in  silence  ;  she  must  lock  up  the  hu- 
miliatins^  secret  in  her  own  breast.  She  cannot  bear 
the  mortification  of  confessing-  that  he  is  unkind. 
She  cannot  bear  to  l^reathe  a  syllable,  which  would  de- 
tract from  his  reputation  ;  for  that  reputation  is  as  dear 
to  her  as  her  own.  Sympathy,  which  alleviates  all 
other  distress,  cannot  have  access  to  this.  The  heart 
of  an  injured  wife  must  bleed  unseen  ;  sympathy  would 
only  widen  and  exasperate  the  wound.  It  is  a  sorrow 
of  that  peculiar  kind,  which  it  is  rudeness  for  any  other 
eye  to  explore.  Nor  is  the  author  of  this  distress  more 
happy  than  the  victim  of  it.  He  must,  in  his  better 
moments,  detest  himself  for  this  base  violation  of  all 
the  hopes  which  his  once  supposed  merit  inspired — for 
this  unprincipled  perjury  against  his  connubial  vows — 
for  sinking  so  far  below  those  goodly  promises  of  ho- 
nour and  virtue  on  w^hich  unsuspicious  affection  reposed 
its  trust. 

In  this  detail  of  domestic  misery,  occasioned  by  evil 
tempers,  I  say  nothing  of  the  fate  of  those  unhappy 
dependants,  whom  Providence  has  placed  more  entirely 
at  his  mercy.  Well  may  we  suppose  that  their  condi- 
tion would  be  that  of  sheep  under  the  fangs  of  a 
tiger.  How  will  he  be  apt  to  behave  towards  his 
slaves,  who  can  treat  even  his  wife  with  barbarity  ? 

Thus  you  see  how  possible  it  is,  in  all  the  relations 
of  life,  for  vicious  habits  and  malignant  passions  to 
attend  and  to  frustrate  the  advantages  of  a  cultivated 


1«) 

miiid.  Yet,  my  young  fiienclj^.  are  yoit  .surticientlv 
aware  of  this  ?  Are  you  taking  all  pains,  by  a  course 
of  moral  discipline,  to  prevent  so  disastrous  a  defeat  of 
all  your  early  toils  and  promises  ?  While  you  burn 
with  emulation  to  be  distinguished  for  scholarship,  do 
your  breasts  glow  with  kind  and  generous  affections? 
Or  are  you  conscious  that  hatred,  and  envy,  and  cun- 
ning, and  lust,  and  impiety,  keep  company  in  your 
heart  with  the  love  of  knowledge?  Are  the  Furies 
and  the  Harpies  permitted  to  inhabit  the  same  temple 
with  the  Muses  ?  You  blush  if  detected  in  ignorance 
- — even  if  guilty  of  a  slight  mistake.  Are  you  equally 
ashamed  of  detecting  in  yourself  any  rismg  emotion, 
which  agitates  and  pollutes  your  mind  ?  Are  you  as 
studious  to  gain  the  approbation  of  God  and  your  own 
consciences,  as  that  of  your  fellow-men  ?  Do  you 
crush  every  vice  in  its  very  birth,  as  you  would  crush 
the  brood  of  the  viper  ?  Do  you  labour  to  eradicate 
every  malady  of  your  temper  and  disposition,  as  care- 
fully as  you  w^ould  pluck  a  thorn  from  your  hand  or 
your  eye.*  Ah  !  it  is  much  to  be  feared  that  many, 
who  aspire  to  academic  honours,  who  have  the  taste 
and  the  ambition  to  become  men  of  letters,  care  not 
what,  in  the  mean  tune,  is  going  on  in  the  moral  cha- 
racter. Provided  there  is  a  fair  reputation  without, 
they  mind  it  not,  though  confusion  and  derangement 
reign  within.     Provided  they  are  advancing  in  know- 

* Nam  cur 

Quae  laedunt  otuluni,  festinas  doiiieie  ;  si  quid 

Est  animum,  differs  curanditempus  in  annum  f — Hor. 


m 

ledge,  they  ieel  little  disquietude,  though  bad  disposi- 
tions shoidd  also  be  gaining  strength,  and  shooting 
their  pestiferous  roots  through  all  the  soil  of  the  heart. 
You  have  talents,  perhaps,  you  have  industry.  These 
give  you  credit  vi^ith  your  acquaintances.  Your  under- 
standing is  ripening,  and  your  literary  acquisitions  are 
increasing,  every  day.  But  what  if  at  the  same  time 
is  growing  up  within  you,  that  pride,  which  in  after  life 
Avill  make  you  discontented  with  your  lot,  scornful  to 
your  connections,  and  bring  you  into  vexatious,  per- 
haps fatal  contests  with  your  associates  1 — that  fretful, 
irascible  temper,  which  will  agitate  yom-  bosom  with 
perpetual  tumults,  and  make  you  a  terrour  to  your  fami- 
ly ? — that  love  of  vice,  which  may  early  blight  your 
health  and  your  fortunes  ?  Beware,  lest  you  are  gain- 
ing an  education  in  depraved  habits  and  affections,  as 
well  as  in  science,  and  lest  you  be  graduated  in  evil  by 
the  time  you  are  ready  to  be  graduated  in  academic 
studies.  Lay  it  down  as  a  fixed  principle,  as  an  infal- 
lible axiom,  that  without  virtue  you  cannot  be  happy : 
that  the  seeds  of  it  must  be  cultivated  by  daily  care,  and 
anxious  watchfulness,  just  as  you  cultivate  your  men- 
tal powers.  And  if  you  feel  rising  in  your  heart,  a 
desire  to  be  virtuous,  let  me  recommend  you  to  the  gos- 
pel of  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  only  source  of  moral  strength. 
Our  appetites  are  too  imperious,  the  temptations  of  the 
world  are  too  bewitching,  to  be  resisted  by  resolutions, 
formed  in  a  soft  and  glowing  moment,  when  the  vir- 
tuous feeUngs  are  in  full  play,  and  appetite  and  temp- 


21 

lation  lie  cloiniaiit.     Alas  !  it  is  easy  to  bind  the  sleep- 
ing  Samson  with  a  few  green  withes ;  but  when  he 
awakes  in  his  might,  these  feeble  fetters  will  bm^st  from 
around  him,  "  as  a  thread  of  tow  is  broken  when  it 
toucheth  the  lire."     In  vain  we  essay  to  be  good,  until 
the  inner  man  is  renewed  by  the  spirit  of  Christ.     "  A 
corrupt  tree  cannot  bring  forth  good  fruit."     Make  the 
tree  good,  and  then,  but  not  till  then,  will  the  fruit  be 
good.      This   transformation   nothing   on   earth   can 
achieve,  but  the  gospel.      '•  Without   me,"  says  the 
Saviour,  "  ye  can  do  nothing ;"  and  the  truth  of  the 
declaration  has  been  verified  in  a  thousand  instances. 
Thousands  have  undertaken  to  fight  agamst  their  sins 
in  theii'  own  strength,  but  vv^ounds  and  despair  have 
been  theii-  only  reward.*     But  when  the  love  of  God, 
springing  from  pardoned  sin,  is  shed  abroad  in  the 
heart,  those  commandments  become  pleasant,  which 
once  were  intolerably  oppressive ;  they  are  congenial 
with   the  heavenly  tempers  of    the   new-born   soul. 
That  gladness,  which  springs  up  witiiin  us  when  we 
are  dehvered  from  the  burden  of  guilt,  and  the  fear  of 
wrath,  gives  a  healthful  elasticity  to  all  our  faculties — 
thus  explaining  and  exemplifying  that  beautiful  apo- 
thegm of   scriptme :    "  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  the 
strength  of  his  people." 


*  For  a  grapluc  and  affecting  description  of  the  repeated  stiuggles  of  buiuaii 
nature,  in  its  own  strength,  to  master  its  dominant  lusis,  and  of  its  igno- 
minious defeats,  driving  it  at  length  into  desperation,  and  avowed  libertinism  of 
principle,  see  Onwppr's  Task,  Boolt  v.  near  the  conclusion. 


22 

It  appears  then,  from  the  foregoing  considerations, 
that  to  acquire  knowledge  is  but   a  part,  and  not  the 
most  important  part  of  a  good  education.     To  disci- 
phne  the  heart,  to  regulate  the  temper,  to  imbibe  vir- 
tuous aftections,  and  to  fortify  them  by  a  course  of 
virtuous  habits — these  are  the  most  difficult  and  the 
most  valuable  attainments  to  which  the  morning  of 
life  can  be  devoted.     Without  these,  we  have  seen  that 
intellectual  endowments  may  be  the  means  of  render- 
ing us  more  miserable  and  more  mischievous  in  the 
world.     And  if  it  is  so  in  this  state  of  existence,  it 
may  be  so  in  that  which  is  to  come.     Here  opens  upon 
us  a  most  frightful  and  appalling  contemplation.     It 
has  been  said,  that  the  refinement  of  feeling  acquired 
by  mental  culture,  multiplies  the  sources  of  vexation 
and  anxiety  in  this  life,  unless  it  be  balanced  and  con- 
trolled by  virtuous  principle.     If  it  is  so  here,  it  will 
probably  be  so  hereafter.      If   the  disembodied  spirit 
goes  out  of  this  world  into  an  abode  of  misery,  the 
loftier  and  more  intelligent  that  spirit  is,  so  much  the 
worse  for  its  peace.     Its  superiour  sensibility  will  only 
enable  it  to  feel  with  keener  anguish,  the  horrors  of  its 
situation.     Its  superiour  intelligence,  its  more  compre- 
hensive scope  of  vision,  its  deeper  insight  into  futurity, 
will  only  enable  it  to  take  in  a  more  overwhelming  idea 
of  endless  misery — will  only  qualify  it  the  better  for 
calculating  the  height  from  which  it  has  fallen,  and  for 
fathoming  the  depth,  and  measuring  the  length  and 
breadth,  of  the  ruin  it  has  incurred.     Oh  dreadful  su- 


perioiity  !  Uh  fatal  prescience  !  More  to  be  deprecated 
than  brutish  blmdness  ;  only  fitting  the  prophetic  soul 
to  bring  within  its  field  of  contemplation,  a  larger  por- 
tion of  the  eternal  wrath  that  stretches  illimitably  be- 
fore it !  The  thought  is  too  oppressive  to  dwell  upon. 
Let  it  humble  the  crest  of  pride — let  it  make  worshipped 
genius  tremble,  to  reflect,  that  what  constitutes  here  its 
glory  and  its  felicity,  will,  in  the  world  of  retribution,  be 
the  chief  instrument  of  its  torture.  It  was  with  the 
strictest  propriety  that  the  great  epic  poet  makes  the 
prince  of  devils  confess  himself  supreme  in  wretched- 
ness, as  he  was  in  guilt  and  intellect — the  victim  of 
wo  unknown  to  any  fallen  spirit  of  inferiour  degree.  It 
was  the  lost  arch-angel  alone,  from  whose  racked  bo- 
som was  wrung  that  awful  lamentation : 

Me  miserable  !  which  way  shall  I  fly 

Infinite  wrath,  and  infinite  despair  ■?  ^ 

Which  way  1  fly  is  hell,  myself  am  hell. 

****** 

The  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself, 

Can  make  a  heav'n  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heav'n. 

I  imagine  to  myself  a  man,  whose  genius  and  elo- 
quence have  made  him  the  idol  of  the  world.  Perhaps 
Ustening  senates  have  hung  upon  the  music  of  his  lips, 
and  a  thousand  newspapers  have  wafted  his  praises  to 
the  boundaries  of  the  earth.  Perhaps  thronged  thea- 
tres, fiJled  with  all  the  rank  and  splendour  of  a  king- 
dom, have  poured  forth  at  his  feet  their  enthusiastic  ho- 
mage, for  some  new  prodigy  of  his  creative  mind.  Oh 
the  exquisite,  the  intense  joy,  which  thrills  through  all 


the  fibres  of  his  frame  !  Cominon  minds  can  lonn  but 
a  faint  conception  of  it ;  superlative  genius  alone  can 
appreciate  the  exstacy  attending  its  own  triumphs.  I 
imagine  now  tliis  deified  mortal,  dying  under  the  dis 
pleasure  of  his  Maker,  and  sent  away  into  a  region 
where  flattery  is  no  more,  where  he  is  surromided  with 
malice  and  contempt,  and  remorse,  and  pain,  and  de- 
spair— what  must  be  the  misery  of  such  a  sufferer ! 
All  his  exquisite  sensibility,  all  his  capacious  views,  can 
then  be  only  engines  of  torture,  to  exasperate  the  ago- 
nies of  damnation.  Oh  my  collegiate  friends  and  as- 
sociates !  may  our  mental  improvement  quahfy  us  for 
far  happier  work  than  this  in  the  eternal  world.  May 
our  enlarged  capacities  enable  us  there  to  estimate  more 
fuUy  the  magnificence  of  heaven,  and  to  explore  with 
an  angel's  ken,  the  power,  the  wisdom,  the  love,  and 
the  glory  of  God. 


